


Revenge as sweet (Like blood on your lips)

by Samsnaka



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Blood, Gen, I wrote this at 2am and I'm tired, Light Angst, Minor Character Death, Other, Pain, what even is good writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsnaka/pseuds/Samsnaka
Summary: Because being a low chaos player that spares the main targets does not mean the same as being nice.Mentioned is TheMela485‘s fantastic OC, David Cooper (pls go check it out (on Deviantart) he’s real cool)





	Revenge as sweet (Like blood on your lips)

Letting their guard down because they thought it was safe was their first mistake.

  


The word hadn’t gotten around yet that Corvo had escaped and, as far as they were concerned, standing guard in Daud’s chamber with the man himself present was as safe as it could get. At least, in this part of town.  
Without accounting for the supernatural assassins roaming around, which, fortunately, they were part of.

  


Then again, it usually went without telling that nothing was to be assumed safe.

  


But surely, if David had felt relaxed enough to leave them his post for a few minutes, then everything should be fine, right?

  


If they had been careful, maybe they would have noticed the presence behind them, as the cool air shifted and rearranged to accommodate a new mass.

  


Maybe they would have reacted faster, when that large hand reached up, clawed at the industrial mask and ripped it off their face.

  


They didn’t even have time to reach for their blade before a harsh shove to the shoulder spun them around and a hand gripped at their throat, viciously holding like a hound’s maul on its prey.  
It all happened so fast. They tried to scramble, to scratch at the arm, to shout an alarm.

  


From the corner of their eye, they could see Daud had noticed the intruder and promptly dropped the papers he had been studying mere instants prior.  
They glanced up at the attacker in a vain hope of making sense of anything and saw the empty pits of the metal mask’s eyes, the fading light bouncing coolly off the surface. The face of Death.

  


The last thing they felt was his blade.

  


\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

  


He knew Corvo would escape.  


  


He knew the man would retrieve his weapons, and he knew he would do anything to find Daud and make him pay, one way or another. And he knew that to do so, he would carve the path to the killer of the Empress in blood, if need be.  
Daud knew this. He had dismissed most Whalers, and specifically instructed them to steer clear of the way should Corvo come to confront him. He doubted they would actually stay out of it, but at the very least they knew what to expect.  
He had expected a full-on fight, one he would lose. He had made his peace with that. He had expected getting his neck slit from behind, getting shot clear, bolts stabbing his legs, a sword twisted in his gut or getting ripped apart by a mine. He expected Corvo to make him suffer, and he was ready for it.

But of all things, he had not expected this.

  


The sudden movement in the corner of his vision attracted his attention immediately, after the relatively calm hours he had spent, waiting.  
Corvo was here.

  


He was holding the young whaler by the neck, suspending them in mid-air. The hood had fallen, and the mask was discarded on the floor, the leather attachments ripped as if the straps had spontaneously burst. Corvo’s sword was drawn and, before Daud could take a single step, the blade ran clean through the kid’s middle, and came away in a splatter of blood.

  


He would have prayed if only he never had to hear again the sound that crawled out of the kid’s throat. It was the exact same as on that day.  
He didn’t even spare Daud a glance, simply dropping the whaler and disappearing in a flurry of blue light.

  


Their knees hit the ground hard, but Daud caught them before they fully fell.  
He could vaguely hear the shouts of alarm of the others, the calls to track Corvo and for their resident doctor to hurry to the room.  
But he already knew the wound was fatal. Still, he tried to stop the bleeding, to slow the gushes of blood that slowly seeped into the whaler’s lungs and choked them, their breath becoming shallower each time.  
He had not expected it, yet it made horrible sense.

  


Corvo had wanted him to see their face, to hear their cry and, most of all, to be powerless to stop it.  
Just like on that day.

  


“Please” the voice was weak and choked out,” Put me down. You don’t deserve this.”

  
He looked at their face, into their eyes and saw that they understood. Why Corvo had done this, and what effect it would have. He knew the others would understand too. But he didn’t know what would happen from there, and that thought threatened to drown him.  


Rather comply, he cradled their head as gently as possible, attempting to make them as comfortable as he could in the current situation.  
“I’m sorry, kid. It should have been me.”

  


There was a soft sound of disapproval, almost inaudible over the gurgles of blood in the lungs.  
He could hear the others filling in the room, cries and shouts quietened by the view and the sudden understanding. Of why.  
He simply held them in silence.  


“Sir?”

  


He startled slightly, hadn’t been expecting they would still be able to talk. The end was close now, a few seconds away at most.

“Yes?”

  


“Thanks…for giving me a home.”

  


And just like that, it was over.  
The body went still, and the head bobbed back slightly, the eyes still half open.  
He reached up a hand and closed them. He picked up the body and carried it to the center of the solemn circle the others had formed. He layed it down and clasped the gloved hands over the wound. He stood, and saw the dark red blotch of blood that had seeped in his coat.

  


Another stain that would never wash off.

**Author's Note:**

> The title doesn’t make sense, the story is downright horrible and comes from a thought I had at some point, because apparently, I like to make myself and others suffer needlessly.
> 
>  
> 
> Before I was aware of a lot of things, back when I started playing Dishonored, I just felt like I needed to give Corvo revenge on Daud in the absolutely most painful way I could think of. Since, my views on a lot of things have changed in this game and I tend to be more, dare I say, mellow on the moral standings of characters since they tend to be particularly grey in this series. But on the topic of revenge, due to its implications, this is what I came up with.  
> I couldn’t handle harming one of the canon whale-babies so, for the sake of sweet, sweet angst and making Daud suffer, I sacrificed my own OC, Val. Also because I do what I want.
> 
> Mentioned is TheMela485‘s fantastic OC, David Cooper (pls go check it out he’s real cool)  
> 


End file.
